


Doctor visit

by tibrstar



Category: Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: F/M, been a while since I wrote 2nd POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-12 00:45:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19218169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tibrstar/pseuds/tibrstar
Summary: A friend gave me the prompt of first meeting, so I used her self insert as reference for the doctor bit.





	Doctor visit

    It had taken you months to be taken seriously. While men didn’t mind a nurse, the idea that a woman ran a clinic as the doctor made them uncomfortable. They were more than happy to send pregnant wives, or their children with an assortment of bruises and scrapes. But if they needed real doctoring, they wanted to speak to a man that would understand. 

    As if women didn’t get shot at, or fall under a horse that stumbled. Women didn’t have stab wounds, or broken arms that needed setting, or embarrassing rashes they needed to figure out how to hide from their husbands. Chin resting on the heel of your hand, you idly sorted through the glass jars on the shelf behind the counter. Some of the herbs you’d found would need to be restocked, looking forward to a reasonable excuse to ride out of town and give your horse their head. 

    The door banged open startling you, turning to see a tall man with a sheepish expression on his face as he very carefully shut the door behind him. He had a nice face, you supposed. His nose had been broken at least twice, and there was a scar on his chin, but when he smiled at you could see he did it often as his crow’s feet deepened, and he suddenly looked a lot less… rough. 

“Can I help you?’

“I uh…’ he paused, long legs making short work of the distance to the counter. “I got a little problem, miss.’

    You quickly re-evaluated the guess of five foot ten to over six foot as he stood in front of the counter. He seemed unsure of how to continue, but he was standing stiffly, left arm held tight to his side. 

“Bullet problem, or knife problem?’ You finally ask when it’s clear he’s waiting for something. 

“Ahh it’s a knife problem, some son of a-’ clearing his throat, he changed his mind. ‘I had a disagreement over a… game of cards.’  

    He was a terrible liar. Your lips twitched with amusement, wondering if his poker face was better before turning back to your shelf and pulling down a few jars. 

“Knife wounds are easy, there’s no bullet to dig out.’

“Yeah, I s’pose that’s true.’

    Motioning towards the back, you waited until he passed you, grabbing the Smith and Wesson from under the counter before following. The lighting was better there, you could see that though the clothing was travel dusted it was good quality, and his eyes weren’t just blue, there were specks of other colour like someone had flicked green near the pupils. 

“If you could get undressed, I’ll get the wound taken care of and you can go back to your… poker game.’

“The doc’ll come in to stitch it up.’

    Good god… Taking his coat from him, you could see it hadn’t been padding that made him look broad, taking a brief moment to appreciate the breadth of his shoulders before looking down to his left side. 

“You said it was knife.’

    Even through his shirt, slick with blood as it was, you could see the wound underneath. He paused in the middle of thumbing off his suspenders, and had the grace to look sheepish.

“It might have been a big knife, or a machete…’ Falling heavily into the chair in the room, he started to shrug then stopped. “I didn’t ask the type it was.’

    Opening the bottle of whiskey on the sideboard, you waited until he had finished unbuttoning his shirt before handing it to him for a drink. Blood was still seeping from the wound, and you felt your stomach twist unpleasantly before forcing it out of mind. Doctors did not get nauseous at the sight of blood, you reminded yourself for the hundredth time. 

“I believe that it was a machete.’ You muttered under your breath, grabbing a cloth from the cabinet, and a bowl you filled with water from the kettle over a small fire. 

“He was damned ornery, didn’t want to pay up what he owed.’

“From your poker game.’

    Your tone made it clear you didn’t buy that for a second, you’d seen his knuckles when he’d begun unbuttoning his shirt. They were scarred from god only knew how many fights, and the small scars that littered his torso made it clear he got into trouble. A lot of it. Crumbling the dried yarrow into the water to deep, you knelt next to him. 

“Wh- yeah, yeah. The poker game.’ He hissed as you gently wiped at the blood near the wound, and this close you could see muscle shifting beneath the skin as he tensed waiting for the next hurt. “He made a bad choice in… cards.’

    When the blood was cleaned away, you dipped a clean cloth into the water and tricked water into his skin above it so the water could try and flush it a bit. The wound was at least a knuckle deep, and you repeated the action a few more times before tenderly cleaning it again. Lightly pressing your fingers around the edges of it, the skin didn’t feel hot, but there wasn’t a guarantee it wouldn’t get infected. 

“You bathe regularly?’

“Regularly enough.’ 

“Well the wound has to stay clean, so as long as you do that when you wake up, and before you go to bed, I think you should be fine.’ 

    Pushing yourself to your feet, you rummaged through drawers to find a needle and thread. Water in the bowl tossed out the window, you dropped the needle and thread into the bottom of it before pouring more hot water into it. 

“You do the doctoring all by yourself?’

    It wasn’t the same tone you were used to hearing, he didn’t sound derisive, or condescending. He sounded more… concerned than anything else. 

“There’s less than five dollars in the register, and the safe is mostly for the medicine I need to keep an eye on.’ You responded dryly.

“I ain’t plannin’ on robbing you, ma’am.’ He sounded offended, and you looked at him over your shoulder with an eyebrow raised. “It’s a small town, but a lady doin’ this kind sort of work…’

“That’s kind of you-‘

“Arthur, my name’s Arthur Morgan.’

“Mr. Morgan. But I can take care of myself.’ Bringing the bowl over, you grabbed a lantern and set it close for better lighting. 

    You hadn’t noticed the sun was going down, slowly but surely. Resting the needle and thread, you placed your hand on his side and used your fingers to pinch the kind together before beginning to stitch the wound closed. He was a good patient, if a little chatty before finally falling silent when you only offered short answers in response. When you were done, you cleaned the area again, the stitches were tight and even, though you had no doubt they’d be torn in a day or so. 

“Didn’t hurt any less than when a man does it, aren’t women supposed to have a delicate touch?’ He asks as you begin to wind a cloth around his torso. 

    For a moment, you’re ready to take offense, head lifted, mouth starting to open when you realized he was teasing. There was a smile on his lips, and damned if that green didn’t sparkle.

“It doesn’t hurt as much but most men are still little boys.’

    His laughter was rough edged, rumbling out of his chest before stopping with a wince. 

“Yeah, you’re alright on your own. That a Smith and Wesson tucked under your shirt?’

“How-’

“Now I ain’t blaming you for it, just curious is all.’ When you finished tucking the end of the cloth to keep it from unraveling, he gingerly tried to reach behind him for his shirt. “That’s a good one I guess, but I’m partial to the Cattleman’s revolver.”

“It kicks awkwardly, I know I can shoot someone with this one.’

    Even though he was smiling, it wasn’t quite reaching his eyes now. Neither of you spoke for a long moment before he nodded and returned to the arduous task of getting dressed with stitches pulling at him. 

“You got a look that says you could.’

    Unable to help it, you felt a flicker of pride that he could see that. Hearing him let out a grunt when he turned too much, you realized that you should probably help him. Moving to grab his shirt, you held it for him as he slipped his arms in the sleeves, and then held out his coat to him. 

“You should buy some yarrow before you leave.’ You offered as he adjusted his clothing after standing up.

“I can find some, or Miss Grimshaw probably has some actually.’ 

    With his coat back on, it was hard to see that he’d been injured. Which was probably a good thing considering the sheriff didn’t like trouble in the small town, and Arthur Morgan definitely looked like trouble with a capital t. Following him out of the back room, he pulled a small stack of cash, some of the bills bearing splotches of red.

“How much?’

“Five dollars.’

“That ain’t cheap?’ He frowned as he peeled off five bills, and then a few more as the frown slowly cleared. 

“No. I said five.’

“Consider it a bribe. I’m a private sort of man, I don’t like people talkin’ about me.’

    Reluctantly taking the bills, you offered him a tight smile. 

“Aw don’t be like that. I can tell you don’t get many patients is all. Hell I was surprised to even know there was a doctor out this way.’

“I won’t talk, you don’t have to give me-’

“I’m sure you won’t, but you keep it and get yourself something nice.’ When your mouth opened, he raised his voice to override you. “I meant a scalpel or whatever it is you doctors like treating yourselves with.’

“Oh… thank you.’

“You’re welcome.’

    You couldn’t argue the fact that the money would help, there were a few items you’d been saving up for. The door opened and closed as you put the money into the register. Only to pause in the middle of pulling the Smith and Wesson out to put away when it opened again. 

“I didn’t catch your name, and it ain’t on the sign.’

    Unable to keep from smiling at the gruff frustration in his voice, you told him and he repeated it to himself. 

“That’s, real pretty. Like you.’ He grinned, still leaning against the door jamb before it seemed like he realized he had somewhere to be. “Well I hope I don’t see you too soon, but I sure won’t be mad when I do. Have a nice day.’

    Staring at the closed door for a moment, you had to shake your head sharply. Handsome cowboys were nothing but trouble, but… Well, this one didn’t seem too bad. 


End file.
